Crap Father
by CutePlushie04
Summary: Sanji's trying to be Head Chef, however he has his work cut out when a baby is shoved into his life. Can Sanji keep up with his work and take on the job of parenthood?
1. Chapter 1

Hello! Alrighty, peeps, this is my first One Piece fic. I hope it'll turn out okay - an idea that I had and actually wrote down in my new 'ideas' notebook! Basically, I've been watching the Once Piece anime as of late, and Sanji is my absolute favourite character (but Luffy comes as close second - he's so funny!). I like the name Sanji, I like to cook, and I like food. Very much - especially cheese.

Well, I hope you like it - please review and give meyour thoughts so I can think over them- but no flames please!

* * *

"Table for one." 

The young woman, probably in her early twenties, mumbled to herself as she entered the ocean-going restaurant. Quickly she headed towards a small table near one of the walls, hefting the bag she was carrying over to the other side of the chair that she perched on, and placing it down on the scrubbed floorboards. She ran one hand through her straight, honey coloured hair and picked up a menu that was in the middle of the table.

Baratie. She had found it at last.

* * *

The first thing Sanji noticed about her was that she was strikingly pretty. Peering out of the kitchen doors, he could see that she had honey coloured hair that fell to her shoulder blades, and she was wearing a pale blue dress. He couldn't see much of her facial features, because her nose was buried in the menu, but he was already interested. Straightening his tie, he put down the gravy jug he had been holding, stepped out of the kitchen and walked calmly across the restaurant towards her. 

Leaning down in a slight bow, Sanji smiled as she looked up from the menu, "What's a beautiful lady like you doing here all alone?"

"I'm not alone." She answered coolly, placing down the menu and folding her hands on the table. Sanji noticed that around her neck was a locket on a silver chain, and there was a pearl bracelet on her right wrist. He straightened up as her sky-blue eyes looked him up and down, and she smiled slightly, a slight blush reaching her cheeks. Was he _that_ attractive?

He cleared his throat, "Are you ready to order, ma'am?"

"No. Not yet." And suddenly she gave him an icy smile, one that he didn't like at all. Bowing slightly, he stepped back and turned, unnerved by that cold smile. It was so sudden, so unexpected. Something … "Sanji."

Over the buzz of the other customers on the ship he heard her say his name. In the same, cool tone. Looking over his shoulder, he saw her gaze fixed on him, piercing and sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. She knew his name …

"You don't remember me, do you?"

Everything about her was cold, he realised. The voice, the blue dress, her gaze, her smile …so cold.

"What?" he said softly, for a lack of anything better to say. She rose slowly from her chair and walked towards him. Her hand, touching his cheek, chilled him to the bone. He turned his body to face her, feeling more than uncomfortable as suddenly she frowned and drew back her hand, and slapped him soundly across the face. His head snapped to one side as a stinging sensation flared around the area where she had hit him.

"You don't remember! Bastard!" she screamed, pounding her fists against his shoulders as she suddenly began to cry, hanging her head as she shrieked, "You don't remember taking advantage of a drunk customer …you don't remember going on that cruiser …you don't remember …!"

Sanji remained silent, stunned by her hitting him, the iciness that was flooding him, and her constant shouting. He didn't have to look to realise that everyone else in the place was now watching them …and found that he couldn't remember. Suddenly she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, her tear-stained face open to his.

"Sanji! Look at me, Sanji!"

_She needs calming down._ A logical thought entered Sanji's head, and he looked down at the young woman, who was staring fiercely up at him, her fingers tightly grasping his jacket.

"Don't you remember me, Sanji – don't you remember this!" The young woman suddenly jerked her arms, pulling Sanji's head down so his lips met hers in a savage kiss. For a brief moment she pressed her soft body to his, in some sort of effort to --

(_"Hahaha – hey, Sanji …I've got a really nice room …do you want to …see it?"_)

As she broke away and scowled angrily up at him, Sanji looked down at her in surprise. His memory had had a sudden jolt – he recognised that pretty face, and the feel of that slim body …but he couldn't put a name to her. Surely she had told him, yet …

"You remember." She released him, and rubbed her tears from her face in a childish manner, pushing her hair back over her shoulders. "Look, Sanji," she pointed to where a long, open bag filled with blankets or something similar was placed a little way beyond her chair, "Look, that's yours. Ten days old, Sanji." She seemed to have calmed down, and now her voice had gone back to its icy state. She tilted her head back and fixed a wicked smile on him, "You wanted it, not me. You took advantage of me, not the other way round. H-ha …haha …"

Giggling to herself, she backed away, then smoothed her hair and dress, and quietly made her way out in her cold manner, leaving Sanji standing with his eyes fixed on the open bag she had left behind. All eyes were on him – he could feel it. He knew what she was talking about – he knew what she had left for him.

_Ten days old …ten days old …_ The words ran through Sanji's mind, and suddenly he felt rather dizzy. His vision blurred and he pressed a hand to his head, groaning slightly. What had he done to deserve this? Why was this happening? _Ten days old …_

He had to do something.

_Ten days old …_

But what could he do?

_Zeff's going to kill me._

Nothing seemed doable, not with the dizziness that was attacking him.

_I can't take care of a _baby …


	2. Chapter 2

Hello again! Whoo - this is a fast update! I feel proud of myself!

Oh, by the way - the name of the fic is Crap-Father ...it doesn't show up with the hyphon because doesn't allow it for some reason. It's a kind of play on the fact that Sanji is sometimes referred to as 'crap-server' and so on.

Another note - thank you so much to the people that reviewed. xx00HPFANFOREVER00xx and SuperMegaGirl - thank you very much! You make me feel so happy! You both told me to update, so here you are!

And do you think these chapters will need names? Hmm ...

Anyhoo, here is the next chapter of 'Crap-Father' - I hope you like it! Please give me your comments and thoughts!

* * *

There was a mumble of resistance from the sleeping blonde: "Screw off …"

Patty paused for a second, and then suddenly redoubled his efforts to wake Sanji. He planted both of his large hands on the sleeping chef and shook him as hard as he could, determined to wake him from sleep. Sanji hardly ever overslept like he was doing now – much less did he need such a severe wake-up call. The only time when he did need assistance to get out of bed was when he had a hangover – and that wasn't often.

"Sanji! …Sanji! Get your ass outta bed now!" Patty yelled angrily, suddenly losing his patience and clubbing one hand into a fist, holding it with his other hand, and slamming the combined force down onto Sanji's chest. The blonde jerked downwards and sprang up a little way from his bunk, but turned away, burying his head into the pillow.

"Leeme lone …"

"Right! That does it, Sanji!" Patty stormed off out of the room, past where the bag with the baby had been placed in the corner. The tiny being had been sleeping, however Patty's shouting had awoken it and it was moaning slightly. Although the infant had no idea who it was, it was able to see two people come back into the room – the large, shouting man who had stomped out a minute or so earlier, and another man with a long, plaited moustache.

"If ye must, Patty." Zeff sighed, as Patty's mouth twisted into a sadistic smirk, and he jerked the bucket he had in his hands forward, splashing Sanji with icy cold seawater. Sanji leapt awake with a yell, springing up so far he bashed his head on the bunk above him, causing him to rub it while suddenly realising who was responsible for the rude awakening. He fixed a glare on Patty, and if looks could kill, Patty would have been sent through a meat grinder, cooked until his remains were extremely well done, and then served up to the cold-hearted cow who had left him with that baby the day before.

_Was it really only yesterday …?_ Sanji thought to himself, bringing up his other hand to massage his head and try and ease away some of the throbbing pain. Patty's roar of laughter caught his attention, and he scowled fiercely, glaring out at the two men in his room like a lion finding two hyenas in his den.

"Shut up, crap-cooker." He snarled, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees. His head still throbbed dully with pain, but he wasn't about to let Patty get away with soaking him.

"Your bed's still gonna be soaked tonight!" Patty laughed, "An' I won't shut up until you get your act together, crap-server!"

"Alright, Patty!" Zeff said sharply. All three men ignored the sound of the baby's crying, which had risen in decibels over the past few seconds, probably due to Patty's laughing. "Get yourself to work – _I'll_ deal with Sanji."

Without a word Patty left Sanji's room, slamming the door behind him. Patty respected Zeff. Heck, everybody respected Zeff. His word was law on Baratie – and that was why Sanji was suddenly nervous. Everybody knew about the baby – and it was screaming now. There was no way Zeff would allow it on the ship. There wasn't a way that he could get rid of the baby, was there? …Give it to a customer …or throw it off the side of the ship – no, that would be murder …

"Sanji." Zeff's low voice caught his attention, and Sanji looked up at him, suddenly feeling very small, sitting on his bunk with a packet of cigarettes in his lap. "What do you plan to do?"

"What?" Sanji asked, feeling very stupid once he had spoken. His head still hurt …and the baby's screaming was starting to cause his ears some pain, too.

"You have a baby on your hands now, Sanji. You're a father." Zeff said seriously. Sanji gazed up at him, feeling as helpless as he had done when he was a boy, stranded on the island with Zeff. Now, that man was standing before him, and Sanji had no idea of what he should do. "You should do something."

Sanji looked down at his crossed ankles, "I …don't know."

"You don't know? Ah, well that's just peachy, isn't it?" Zeff said, reaching out and grasping Sanji's left upper arm with a strong hand. He dragged the late teenaged boy from his place on his bunk and into a standing position, placing his hands on his shoulders and shaking him slightly. "Listen, Sanji. You've got a responsibility now. You've got a child to look after."

"I don't want it." Sanji said, and meaning it from the bottom of his heart. The baby would ruin everything. He had no idea of how to look after it, or what it needed …and Baratie was no place for a baby to grow up. It was too dangerous – and as the child got older, it would just get in the way of everything.

He had no time to respond as Zeff deftly stepped back and lifted his peg-leg, smashing a round-house kick into his chest, sending him crashing to the floor with a yell of pain. The baby's screaming increased, deafening as it filled the small room. Zeff towered over Sanji as the younger one sat up, frowning as he placed his hands on his hips.

"What's yer reasoning behind that, boy?" Zeff roared, scowling down at Sanji with such ferocity that the blonde felt a small flare of fear in his chest, which was burning with pain. He had taken a fair beating this morning. Added to that, he was soaked, and water was still dripping off him. He was shivering with cold. But in spite of things, he still couldn't help but feel a little bit angry.

"I don't know the first thing about babies! How am I supposed to look after it? Why should I?" Sanji growled, getting to his feet defiantly. Zeff paused for a second, and then smirked.

"'Cause I reckon you being a father will set you straight." He said with a roguish grin, "And I'll help you. What else are you gonna do?"

"Throw it off the side." Sanji muttered, a rebellious streak in his eyes. Zeff frowned furiously, and reached out to grab a handful of Sanji's blonde hair, yanking his head down slightly as he shouted again.

"You dare do that, and I'll send you in to retrieve it!"

And suddenly, there was another mood swing, and the Head Chef let go of Sanji's hair, smiling pleasantly. "Now then, Sanji. Have a listen. What can ye hear?"

Sanji answered almost immediately, "The damn baby."

"Now, as a responsible father, you're gonna have to shut it up."

"How?"

"You've seen women with their babies on this ship, haven't you?" Zeff said, putting his hands on his hips. Sanji nodded slowly, and realised what Zeff was talking about, approaching the baby in the bag on the floor, and dropping into a crouch over it.

"Um …" With a slightly trembling hand, Sanji reached out to touch the baby's head. There was a tuft of pale hair on its head, and he ran his fingers over it, feeling the softness on his fingertips. However, this did nothing to calm the infant, who continued to scream. Feeling a little desperate, Sanji moved his hand to the baby's chest and midsection. He could feel the young heart beating at a furious rate under his hand, the little chest heaving as the screaming continued. He pulled back his hand; nothing was working.

"Come on, Sanji …" Zeff said somewhat encouragingly from behind him. Sanji growled in frustration.

"Ugh …it isn't going to shut up, crap-geezer!" The blonde crossed his legs again, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand as he gave up. Zeff nudged him meaningfully in the back with his peg-leg, and Sanji scowled up at him, "What?"

"Trying picking it up, why don't you?" Zeff suggested cheerfully, a good-natured smile still on his face. Sanji sighed, feeling more frustrated than ever, and reached out for the infant, slipping his hands under its armpits and lifting it up. However, the smaller blanket wrapped around it slipped away as Sanji held it out at arm's length, his eyes widening in surprise as he realised what had just happened. The baby hadn't been wearing anything underneath that blanket.

"Zeff …"

At this point, Zeff knelt down, placing a hand on Sanji's shoulder. The younger one's eyes were still fixed on the baby, whose crying had now died down, reduced to little, somewhat contented babbles. Zeff patted Sanji's shoulder, laughing inwardly at the wideness of the blonde's eyes. Reaching round, he slipped a finger under Sanji's chin and closed his open mouth with a small chuckle.

"It's rude to stare, Sanji."

"C-cover it up, Zeff …quick …" Sanji said, his hands trembling as he continued to hold the baby. Shocked as he was, he really didn't want to drop the tiny thing, since it felt rather fragile in his hands. But still …

Chuckling still, Zeff grasped the fallen blanket and wrapped it around the baby again, and then pushed Sanji's hands towards himself, "Make sure you support the head, crap-server. In the crook of your elbow – not like that!" He positioned the baby in Sanji's arms so he was holding the infant securely, and guided Sanji's other hand so it prevented the precious bundle from falling from the support. "There you go. Now rock it gently …no, this sort of motion …yeah, that's it."

Rocking and holding the baby as Zeff had told him to, Sanji looked back at the older man, arching an eyebrow questioningly, "How do you know so much?"

"Watching the ladies with their little ones. How else?"

"Oh." Sanji turned his attention back to the baby. "Right."

There was a brief silence in the room, broken only by the baby's soft babbling and the occasional gurgle. Sanji looked down at the tiny life in his arms, his mouth a set line as he concentrated on not dropping his child, and rocking it gently.

_This. Feels. So. Unnatural._

"Well," Zeff said, his tone unnaturally bright, to add to all of the unnatural things in the room, "at least we know it's a boy."

"Yeah. A boy." Sanji mumbled, studying the chubby little face that was open to his, meeting the gaze of the grey-blue eyes. The pupils were large and the mouth of the child was wet, and drool was leaking slowly from the mouth and dribbling down his chin.

_Needs cleaning up,_ Sanji thought, using the sleeve of his bed shirt to wipe the child's mouth. It was perhaps the only part of his shirt that wasn't wet – fortunately the blanket seemed to be protecting the baby from the cold of the rest of his shirt.

"What are you going to call him?"

"What?" Sanji looked up at Zeff in surprise. The Head Chef folded his arms, raising his eyebrows as he looked down at father and son.

"Boy needs a name, doesn't he? You have to call him something."

Sanji thought for a second. "I don't know."

"Again, you don't know. Aaah, Sanji, Sanji, Sanji …" Zeff got to his feet, putting a hand on his chin, "If you were anybody else, I'd probably have chucked you over the side of the ship. You and your brat."

For some reason, Sanji felt a twinge of anger, but didn't let it get the better of him.

"But you're special to me." Zeff continued, "So I'll help you name the whelp. …Why not name him after your favourite dish?"

"…No. Too long." Sanji said, wiping the baby's mouth again. He seemed to have an endless amount of saliva.

"Okay …well, what about your favourite item in the kitchen?"

"A spoon?"

"Bad idea." Zeff gave a thoughtful 'hmm', before speaking again, "Shiji?"

"What?"

Zeff smirked, almost playfully, "Ichi, ni, _san, shi_ …"

"No ..."

There was a brief chuckle, "Alright …Sanji Junior."

"That sounds retarded."

Sanji shook his head, reaching for another blanket and wrapping the small boy in it. He didn't want him to get cold – although he was used to it, the baby wouldn't be. He settled his son back into his arms again, running one hand through his hair before using the sleeve on that arm to wipe the infant's mouth again.

"Fine. What was the last thing you touched before that encounter with his mother?" Zeff asked. Sanji chewed his lip as he tried to remember, and finally muttered:

"Gravy. I was holding a gravy jug."

"Alright. We'll call him Tare." Zeff said, and as Sanji looked back at him in disbelief, the blonde could see that the man who was often rumoured to be completely mad was grinning widely at him. "Means 'gravy.' "

"I …" Sanji looked down at his son, "it sounds …alright …" _Not to long, easy to say …and remember …_ "But …doesn't it have any other meanings?"

"Sure. Lots." Zeff put his hands behind his back and recited, "It can mean: 'hanging', 'straw curtain', 'lapel', 'pocket flap', 'skirts of a coat', 'soy sauce' or 'gravy'. Take your pick, Sanji. What do you want it to mean?"

Sanji sighed. He felt tired, cold and frustrated. He was going to keep this baby – and now he had to name it – and pick a meaning for it. Shrugging his shoulders, he muttered, "Gravy."


	3. Chapter 3

Okay people – I count myself extremely lucky to have updated so frequently. And I already have seven reviews! That's nearly four reviews per chapter! Thank you so much!

OoXXHPFANFOREVERXXoo: I'm sorry! I just realised that I spelt your name wrong when I mentioned you in the last chapter! I feel so stupid! I'm very, very sorry! Anyways, in answer to your question – I looked up a bio on Sanji, and it says he's nineteen (years old, hopefully). In this …I'm not sure yet. I'm thinking of making him about sixteen, so maybe I could write a scene to go along with the storyline of when the Straw Hat Crew arrive at Baratie – or it could be some strange alternate – Sanji is nineteen, but the Straw Hats never came to Baratie. I'm not sure. What do you think?

Raikku of The Darkness: Thanks for your review! I'm glad you think this is funny – I'm not such a great humour writer, I don't think …but I'm trying very hard! And …I don't really like Ed, Edd 'n' Eddy much at all ...ehehe – how ironic, neh?

Hutchy: Distinguished! Yay!Thanks very much for the review!

Vampirebaby13: Thank you very muchly so for reviewing! The fic was a bit …dramatic at the beginning, but I hope it'll lighten up some. You wanted to see what happens next – and I hope it's still at least funny …'cause I'm not sure if there's much cuteness in this chapter. Ah well! Tee hee hee!

animefan127: Thanks! I love the word 'awesome'! It's one of my favourite words! Wh00t! My fic got an awesome! Yaaay!Prepare for some random happiness -SKABOOHBAH!

Also, I haven't done a disclaimer for past couple of chapters - which was a bit silly on my part, really. Well, okay - a whole lot silly. So - I didn't create One Piece, and I don't own it, either. It rightfully belongs to Oda-sama.

(I love this great big stonking line you can put in to separate text!)

* * *

Since the naming of his son, Sanji had been ordered to carry on with work as normal. He had gotten dressed, wrapped up the baby firmly in the smaller blanket, and then a second blanket for warmth, and started work. However, Zeff's order 'carry on as normal' didn't seem to apply here. Sanji usually had two hands free to work with.

Now, he was lucky if he even had one.

For what seemed the thousandth time he was careless, and the spitting eggs burnt his hand, "Ow! Shit!"

"Language, crap-server!" Patty laughed cruelly from the opposite end of the kitchen. Sanji flipped him the one-fingered salute and turned his attention to Tare, who he was carrying with his left arm. Unfortunately, the baby had started to cry. Again.

"Shh …" Sanji hissed, rocking Tare and trying to calm him as quickly as possible. The eggs that were frying in the pan in front of him would be reduced to crisps if he didn't get them onto a plate quickly. However, Tare showed no sign of wanting to stop crying, and his wailing increased.

"Problems?" a cook with spiky black hair, named Iru, leaned over with a mischievous smirk as Sanji tried his bets not to panic. Usually he was so calm and impossible to shake in any situation …but this baby was really throwing him off. He knew nothing about babies …absolutely _nothing_.

"Deal with your own cooking." Sanji snapped back, causing Iru to shrug and go back to whatever he was preparing, and Sanji suddenly raised his eyebrows, closing his eyes as he turned his head away from Tare. "Fine. Cry. See if I care."

As if in response to his challenge, Tare began to scream, clubbing his little hands into fists and beating the air with them, kicking at Sanji's stomach from underneath the blankets that he was wrapped in. Sanji looked back worriedly at the baby, shaking his head frantically, "No, please …don't cry, don't cry …"

"Boy or girl?" Iru asked, without looking at him. Sanji responded, not sure why he wanted to share private details of the embarrassing affair.

"Boy." He replied, lifting Tare up so he could rest him against his shoulder. As soon as he had done it, he realised that he didn't really want the high-pitched screaming any closer to his ear, but Tare was easier to hold (since his left arm had been aching from holding the baby for so long), and for some reason, he suddenly quietened again.

"Y'know, he's probably gonna be hungry." Iru said, flipping up some pancakes from the oven he was working at. Catching them deftly in the pan he set it down again, and turned to Sanji with a friendly smile. Right now, they were coping with breakfast orders, and that could mean anything from a fancy omelette to a simple bowl of cereal.

"What do I feed him? What do babies eat?" Sanji asked, suddenly realising just how desperate he was for help. Iru laughed slightly.

"Babies that age dun eat, Sanji-lad. They ain't got none of these." Iru proceded to open his mouth and point inside it, causing Sanji to arch an eyebrow.

"Haven't got any what?"

"Teeth, Sanji-lad."

"Uh …Iru, you don't have any teeth either. Not there, anyway." Sanji met the defiant frown of his fellow cook, who toyed with the towel over his shoulder.

"Look, d'you want my help or not?"

Tare was gurgling again, but Sanji reckoned that the crying would soon restart before long. If anything, the baby's wordless screaming was an indicator that he was hungry – and the crying was near unbearable. Bobbing the infant up and down against his shoulder, Sanji nodded quickly at Iru, who gave him a near toothless grin.

"Alrighty then. Well, what your kid's gonna need is milk. Normally he'd get it from his mother, but since she's not here …I'm afraid you'll have to …"

Sanji cut him off with a growl of anger, "Do you really think I could do that?"

"What? No, no, Sanji – I meant you'll have to …y'know, get some milk from somewhere else."

"Oh? Like where?" Sanji drew back, and the ideas that entered his mind weren't exactly appealing to him. _I can't exactly ask one of the customers to provide milk for him, can I?_

"Heat up some normal milk in a pan until it's warm – I guess cow or goat milk'll do …" Iru grinned widely and clapped Sanji on the shoulder – thankfully not the shoulder that Tare was on – "my mother fed me on goat milk – and look how I turned out!"

Sanji briefly studied the cook; the toothless grin, the unshaven face, hairy arms and rather distinct bodily smells, plus the pot-belly …and made a quick decision that he did not want his son to grow up to be like that. _Wait,_ the blonde thought, _how do I even _know_ that he's going to reach adulthood? What do I care?_

"So …I just warm up some milk in a pan? And he'll have that?" Sanji asked, arching an eyebrow again. Iru nodded enthusiastically, and pointed to Sanji's oven.

"Your eggs are burning, too."

"What? Crap!" Sanji's hand shot out and grabbed the eggs, which were far from being edible now. The remains were dark brown, crispy and sticking to the pan – wasted. And Sanji hated it when food was wasted. _If I wasn't talking about food for the stupid baby …_

So who to blame? Himself, for talking, Iru, for talking to him, or Tare, for distracting him and needing to be talked about?

Tare. He was easiest to blame.

"Oh, screw this …" Sanji tipped the remains into the small bin at his feet – it was the first thing that he had cooked that had gone wrong in a long time – and then flipped the oven off before heading out of the kitchen. Entering the room behind the kitchen, where all of the washing-up lackeys were, he tossed the pan into the nearest sink, causing the lackey at it to squeal with surprise, and picked up a clean one hanging from the rack of washed-up utensils and pans.

All the time, Tare was resting against his shoulder, supported by Sanji's hand underneath him, babbling and gurgling and every so often banging his fist against Sanji's shoulder. The baby's father headed back to the oven he was working at, making a mental note to apologise to the customers for the lateness of the eggs as he liberally poured oil into the pan.

He was quickly adapting to using only his right hand, although some things were rather difficult. However, he had mastered cracking eggs one-handedly years ago, and he had two more eggs in the pan in no time, and he turned up the heat. Watching them cook, he twitched his nose as an unpleasant smell invaded his nostrils.

Looking around in confusion, Sanji tried to find the source of the smell. To be truthful, it reeked. Really reeked. It was worse than the fish heads that sometimes littered the kitchen when Patty was on a caviar preparation spree.

Suddenly, he turned his head to face the source of all of his current problems. Tare was still babbling, rather happily. Eyeing him suspiciously, Sanji leaned a little closer and sniffed at the baby's shoulder. Tare shoved a fist into his wet mouth and began to chew on it with his toothless gums, looking back at Sanji with his huge blue-grey eyes.

The smell was stronger around the baby, and suddenly Sanji noticed something else. Tare's rear end, which was resting in Sanji's cupped hand as support against his shoulder, was much warmer than it had been before …

Sanji wasn't sure why, but an answer to the mystery suddenly came to his mind as he put two and two together. Or rather, the smell and the warmth. He recognised the smell now – it was a rather distinct stench.

Of poo.

"Oh. Bugger." Sanji gazed at Tare with burning, undying hatred in his eyes. "I hate you, you little son of a bitch."

He'd have to deal with it in a few minutes – because there was no chance that he was losing those eggs again.

* * *

For some reason, just about everybody in the kitchen knew of his dilemma. Things like this had a cruel way of getting themselves noticed by people who you knew well and would continue to know for a long time. People who wouldn't let you live it down.

Tare was lying on his back, on the floor in Sanji's room (which he shared with another two people – Vance, who was a talented, good natured waiter, and Jagaimo, who was lively and …a little insane), with his reluctant father sitting cross-legged in front of him. The baby was gurgling with awe and wonder at all of the attention he was attracting, since several of the cooks and waiters, and even a couple of lackeys, were crowded behind Sanji, who frowned with irritation.

_Are these people genuinely interested in baby care, or are they just perverted?_ Sanji wondered, trying to ignore them and reaching down for the smaller blanket that covered the lower half of Tare's body. Some of it was already stained a not-so-lovely brown colour.

Gingerly, Sanji pulled back the blanket, and almost instantly a hot wave of stench escaped up at him, causing all the people around him to draw back a good five or six feet, backing up against the far wall, most with their hands clamped over their noses and mouths. Sanji dropped the blanket and scooted back, away from Tare, shaking his head wildly.

"Not a chance …" he mumbled to himself, pinching his nose. Tare kicked and waved at the ceiling, babbling something beyond comprehension in his baby-talk.

_I really don't want to do this …but I'll bet this was why he was crying …_ Sanji thought, _So what do I do? …I could block the smell by …_

As a sudden brainwave came over him, he got to his feet and headed towards the crowd of people against the back wall, reaching out a plucking off a peg that was clipped to one of the lackey's aprons. Turning away from them, he put it on his nose and headed back towards Tare, sitting down in front of him again.

"Oh, Sanji's so brave …" somebody breathed, obviously in awe of Sanji's actions.

"I'll bet somebody's paying him to do it." Someone else said scathingly. Sanji ignored them, lifting away the blanket, and throwing the corners over to cover the mess in the middle of the material, and tossing it to one side.

_That's it. Done._

Sanji jumped with shock as he heard a raspy voice over his shoulder, "You know what's next …don't you?"

He didn't even have to look to realise it was Iru – currently the source of all baby-related knowledge – with a big grin on his stubble-ridden face. Slumping his shoulders, the blonde resigned himself to accepting help again.

"What?"

"You need to clean him up. There's no way that's going to be comfortable when he gets another nappy on, y'know …"

"Another nappy?" Sanji looked back at Iru with a scowl, "Where on this ship am I going to get a _nappy_?"

"And you expect me to have all the answers?"

"You've had all of them so far …!"

The older man paused, then grinned again, "I'll think of something. Right now," He held out a damp dishcloth, presumably borrowed or stolen from one of the lackeys, "you gotta clean 'im up."

_I feel so indecent._ Sanji took the cloth from Iru, who then busied himself with the nappy crisis, and began to clean up his son. Fortunately, there was no crying on Tare's part, although Sanji did truly feel like he was going to be sick.

Once he was done with cleaning up Tare, he picked up the soiled blanket and left the room, disposing of both cloth and blanket in the waste room. His next port of call was the nearest open deck, where he leaned over the safety bars and promptly threw up.

Coming back into the room, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth, he realised that now Tare was receiving a lot of attention – from the lackeys, most of whom were girls. They were all crouched near him, leaning over and making cooing noises at him, to which he was responding with little giggles of delight.

_Oh, they like him now he's not covered in crap. I see how it is …_ Sanji thought angrily as he stood over them, frowning down angrily, "Hey! Will you let me get to my kid?"

Quickly the lackeys dispersed, however one spoke up, obviously rather hurt, "He's such a cute little baby! Why don't you trust us?"

"Because you obviously think it's fine to look at a naked baby – one which, I might add, isn't yours." The girl stormed out, and Sanji sat down cross-legged in front of Tare again.

The baby was now eating one of his toes, or at least trying to, in a contortionist act that made Sanji wince. And he had the trouble of finding a new nappy for the boy. Obviously, the baby couldn't soil all of the blankets he had.

People had come closer now, since the smell and everything unlovely to do with it was gone, and were talking amongst themselves. Iru, apparently, hadn't thought of any solution to the nappy problem. However, something suddenly caught Sanji's eye, and he held his hand out towards one cook, who was named Hana.

"Give me your necktie."

"Um …okay …" Hana pulled off the blue cloth around his neck and handed it to Sanji, who unfolded it until it was its original large, triangular shape. It was a day for brainwaves on his part. He slipped the necktie underneath Tare's rear end, and brought the two tying ends over the infant's belly, tying them up in a double knot. Next, he pulled the pointed end of the necktie up between Tare's legs, under the knot and then folding back over it, effectively covering him up and creating a makeshift nappy.

In truth, Sanji felt rather proud of himself.

However, the nappy would fall apart if the pointed end wasn't held in place. He needed …

"A pin …does anybody have a pin?" Sanji asked, looking around at the people crowding round him. Suddenly one the lackeys held one forward.

"Here you are, Sanji …" she said, blushing as he took it from her. Ignoring her he pinned the point of the necktie to the knot, pulling his hands away to check its effectiveness. Fortunately, the makeshift nappy did not fall apart, even as Tare babbled and kicked.

And, as Sanji wrapped Tare in another blanket and held him in his arms, preparing to return to work, the people around him burst into applause.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! Here it is – phew! The fourth chapter of 'Crap-Father'! Took me a while, neh? The once-a-day updates could only last so long …meh, I was lucky to keep it up! But anyway, here it is.

But first, to the people who have made me feel so happy! Twelve reviews – that's four per chapter! Thank you so, so much!

OoXXHPFANFOREVERXXoo: Thanks for your idea about the Straw Hat Pirates – I think I will put them in after all. It sounds like a good idea – and since the One Piece episodes that I'm watching at the moment are of Baratie etc. I'm getting ideas for it. One thing – Tare probably won't be nine or ten – most likely a lot younger, but hey! Thank you very much!

MeraNova: Yeah – I've been through the whole nappy changing thing – I've got three younger siblings and baby second cousins. Hee hee – well, there's more trauma for poor Sanji in this chapter, too …and yeah – about the whole having children – I don't want any either – nopsies! Although …adopting sounds kinda nice.

Vampirebaby13: Well, Sanji's got a lot of things to face up to while being a dad! Poor guy – don't get me wrong, Sanji is my favourite character from One Piece! But this idea strolled into my head and said 'hi!', and so, I decided to try it out! Yeppers!

Hutchy: Yuppers – and see what this chapter has in store. I wonder if Sanji will a) get the hang of nappy-changing and b) get some proper nappies – those cook are bound to run out of neckties sooner or later …

Raikku of The Darkness: I'm glad you like this fic – I'm so happy that it makes you laugh! I was hoping this story would entertain people …and it looks like I've succeeded some! Yaaay! I hope you find this chapter funny, too!

One more thing: about the pronunciation of 'Tare'. Just in case you didn't know, or were confused about it, it's pronunciated 'Tah-ray'. There we go!

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece! Now on with chapter four!

* * *

"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU SWABS DOIN' IN HERE?"

All of the cooks and lackeys froze as Zeff crashed in, glaring at them all so fiercely that they fell completely quiet and still. His eyes were burning with anger and his expression was livid. The fact that he held a huge carving knife in one hand did nothing to calm anybody's nerves.

"SCARPER, YOU SCUM!"

The one-legged man quickly stepped to one side as his employees scrambled as quickly as they could to get out of the door, dispersing into the kitchen and wash-up area in the blink of an eye. When they had gone Zeff approached the only one left in the room. Sanji.

The teen was sitting crosslegged on the floor, besides the blanket-stuffed bag that Tare had arrived in, with the babbling infant in his lap. He looked over at Zeff with a smirk so smug it made the older man want to throw up.

"Get your ass back to work, crap-server. You ain't slacking just 'cos you've got a brat on your hands – set an example to the rest of 'em." Zeff pointed the blade in his hand threateningly at the blonde, "Now git movin."

Resting Tare against his shoulder, Sanji got to his feet and left the room, Zeff scowling at him like a bad-tempered bulldog all the way. The kitchen was back to its busy state, with waiters rushing in to give orders, take out the meals that had been prepared, and bringing in used utensils and other things for the lackeys to wash up. Sanji snatched a scrap of paper from one of the waiters, and looked at what was on it.

"Four lemonades …and steak?" Sanji arched an eyebrow in confusion, _Who would want to eat steak in the morning?_ "Why steak?"

"C'maan, crap-server!" Patty guffawed as he passed by Sanji with a huge, deep pan in his arms, ready to prepare for soup orders that would come with lunch-time meals. "Don't ye know how to cook steak? Haha – you dumbass!"

Sanji glared at Patty over his shoulder, "Shut it, crap-cooker. I know how to cook steak. What I want to know is why someone would want steak for breakfast."

"Some hardcore sailors, I reckon – wanting to build up their strength before sailing out." Patty said, putting the soup-pan on the main oven and laughing loudly again, "Really, Sanji, you've got as much intelligence as a boiled cabbage!"

"I don't take it personally." Sanji said clearly as he headed towards the meat rack, making sure that Patty could hear him. Stuffing the order into his trouser pocket and unhooking a large joint he smirked over at Patty, "every time you open your mouth you offend somebody."

"Whaaat?" Patty snarled, as Sanji swung the steak onto a large oven dish and shoved it into the oven, turning up the heat. He reckoned that the people who had ordered it would want all the fat on it, too – besides, he was too tired to cut all of the fat off it this morning. Patty stomped angrily over to him, spraying Sanji with spit as he yelled, "What d'you mean I offend somebody whenever I open my mouth?"

Noticing that Tare was moaning slightly against his shoulder, Sanji turned to face Patty fully, looking up at him defiantly, "I mean, like when you speak, or eat, or belch …that's offensive." Seeing Patty's rage building gave the blonde satisfaction, and he continued, "And so is your breath."

"You're pushing it, crap-server …" Patty wound back a fist, a vein throbbing furiously in his temple, then suddenly thought the better of it and relaxed slightly, "If you didn't have a whelp just there, then I'd smash your mouth in."

As Patty turned and walked away, Sanji lifted Tare from resting against his collarbone and lay him in his arms, with the infant's head resting in the crook of his elbow like Zeff had told him, "Yeah – and don't come so close to my kid in future. He's very young and easy to influence – your stupidity might rub off on him."

Patty's eyes were burning as he whirled around, "Say goodbye to those pretty teeth."

"Hey, Sanji …" the waiter whom he had snatched the order from tapped the teen nervously on the elbow, "You should make the lemonade for the customers while they wait for their steak …"

"Yeah." Sanji agreed, holding out his free hand towards Patty, "save it for later, crap-cooker. I've got an order to comply with. Besides, you start a fight in here and Zeff'll stick that carving knife where the sun doesn't shine."

There was flicker of realisation in Patty's eyes, and he lowered the fist he had been intending to use to smash out all of Sanji's teeth, but the scowl on his face didn't fade, "Wait until the shift's over, crap-server."

The threat didn't faze Sanji for a second; he and Patty didn't get on at all – and threats from Patty were commonplace in his life. The baby in his arms babbled slightly, blowing a bubble between his lips. Sanji noticed it, and popped it with a finger on his free hand, causing Tare's large blue-grey eyes to widen in surprise for a moment. Then, without warning, Tare suddenly burst in loud giggles.

He reached up at his father and clapped his hands, a big grin on his chubby face, kicking inside the blankets and lightly catching Sanji's stomach once or twice. The outburst of giggles was making him feel slightly uncomfortable, and as he cast a nervous look around, he could see the other cooks leaning over from their workstations to look at him.

"What are you all looking at?" Sanji snapped, making them all turn back to whatever they were cooking as fast as they could. With a sigh he lay Tare on the preparation work surface next to the oven, and headed over to the fruit pantry, grabbing some lemons and dodging around the other cooks and waiters as he made his way back.

A gasp caught in his throat – Tare had somehow got himself near to the edge of the work surface, and with every excited kick he was tempting a fall to the floor below. Sanji quickened his pace, shoving the lemons on to the work surface and grabbing the tiny boy. Holding Tare in his hands, Sanji could feel just how much his heartbeat had quickened – in fear for his son falling from the work surface.

_Why do I care? Stupid brat …_ Sanji thought, resting Tare against his shoulder and collarbone again, and reaching for a knife with his right hand, which he had taken care to keep free. Aiming carefully, he sliced the lemons in half, and opened up a cupboard above his head, grasping a juicer and slamming the first of the lemon halves onto it, grinding the juice from the fruit, drilling all of his frustration into the task.

Before long, he had a jug with pure lemon juice in it, mixed with water, which he sloshed liberally into four glasses. He had told the waiter to bring a cup of sugar, and he put a large spoonful of that in each glass too. Also, the waiter had taken the liberty of bringing a tray and some ice, but to his surprise Sanji gave him a pale haired baby instead of the lemonades.

"Look after him for me – I'll serve these ones personally since they're delayed." Sanji said, taking the tray and loading it up with the lemonades and the ice. The waiter held Tare, trying to protest, but Sanji brushed past him and headed down the spiral staircase that held the centre of the ship, towards the customer's area. Checking the piece of paper he had stuffed into his pocket earlier, he saw that the order was for table eighteen.

At the said table sat four muscly sailors – just like Patty had predicted. They laughed loudly as Sanji approached them, but why he didn't know. He placed a drink in front of each sailor, "My apologies for the delay. Ice …uh, gentlemen?"

"Naw – but ye better have put loads o' sugar in here – unless ye want yer head mashed up." One of the sailors grinned, lifting his glass. The four of them clinked glasses, and all drank deeply. Sanji stood by the table, waiting for the verdict, until suddenly a shout from above made him look up.

"Hey! Sanji! You better get your ass up here – your brat's screaming his head off!"

"Excuse me," Sanji, embarrassed at the fact that the problem was now know to all of their current customers, bowed and ran back up the stairs towards the kitchen. Tare's horrendous bawling met his ears before he had even burst into the kitchen, _he better not need another nappy change …_

"Here, Sanji!" the waiter, obviously distressed, held out Tare towards Sanji, who snatched the baby from him with a fierce scowl.

"What did you _do_?" Sanji demanded, as Tare continued to scream without mercy. The waiter cowered away from him pathetically, frantically shaking his head.

"I did nothing! Nothing at all! The whelp just started screamin'!"

"Do you have to change his nappy again, Sanji-lad?" Iru, seemingly quite excited by what was happening, hopped from one foot to the other as Sanji held Tare in front of himself.

"I'd rather gouge my eyes out and feed them to Gold Roger's parrot." Sanji replied, but despite that he sniffed at the hysterical Tare, who had tears running in rivers down his cheeks. There was no smell of poo – he was lucky. But then, what else …?

_Oh – he's probably hungry. Kid hasn't eaten since yesterday, at least …_ Sanji suddenly realised, "Out of my way!"

He deftly whipped a pan from the cupboard near his feet, resting Tare, who was still bawling at the top of his lungs, in one arm. He called to Iru, "Make yourself useful and get some milk!"

"Cow or goat milk?"

"Uh …" Sanji suddenly remembered that Iru had mentioned being fed on goat's milk when he was younger, "Cow milk."

Quick as a goose, Iru disappeared to the dairy pantry, just as Zeff exploded into the kitchen, once again wielding that none-too-friendly carving knife. "WHAT'S GOIN' ON IN HERE?"

Sanji turned his back, trying to hush Tare, who was having none of it, continuing to scream and bawl, and effectively make Zeff's gaze swing onto him, "Ah, again – it's you and your brat causin' trouble, Sanji."

"No – it's just him." Sanji replied, turning as Zeff angrily rounded on him. He didn't wince at the carving knife, was however sprayed with spit for the second time that day.

"You better get your act together, boy – I know it's been less than a day, but I expect my cooks to be adaptable and efficient! Twice now you've stopped this kitchen from working! Just get on with it! And make your whelp shut up!" Zeff roared, before turning on his heel and marching out of the kitchen again. Cooks he passed by cowered at their workstations, keeping their eyes on him until her had disappeared out of the door. The kitchen was then quiet, save for Tare's crying. Sanji wondered if the child would soon run out of breath.

"Sanji-lad! I got the milk fer you!" Iru raced back into the kitchen, holding up a bottle of the white liquid, which, Sanji reminded himself, came from the lining of a cow's stomach. He snatched it from the other cook and poured it into the pan, turning up the heat and ignoring Iru as he dashed out of the kitchen, towards the customer area.

"Right," Sanji turned his attention to Tare, "are you going to shut up?"

Tare's crying had not lowered in decibels, and his chubby face was screwed up so, in Sanji's opinion, he resembled a little goblin, and his hands were balled into fists, which he occasionally punched the air with. Sanji frowned.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then."

"Sanji! Make that kid shut up!" somebody shouted from across the kitchen.

"Look – I'm trying! Very hard!" Sanji snapped back, rocking Tare slightly, "Come on, kid – I'm getting some milk ready. Give me some credit, alright?"

Tare's reply was the never-ending screaming. Sanji sighed, feeling like a total idiot as he checked the milk in the pan. It was slowly warming, but he wasn't satisfied. "Hurry up, you stupid milk …"

Tare's screaming was unbearable – at any second he thought his eardrums might burst and blood would begin to drip out of his ears …

"Ack!" there was a yell of horror from somewhere in the kitchen, "my ears! My ears are bleeding!"

Too late.

"Sanji-lad! I've done it!" Iru, with his excited shout, crashed back into the kitchen, waving something around in some crazed ecstasy, "look what I found! I've done it!"

"Done what?" Sanji asked, struggling to hear him over Tare's crying. Iru held out his prize in front of Sanji's face, and the blonde stared at it in confusion. "What is it?"

"A bottle – to feed your bundle of joy with once the milk is ready!" Iru laughed as he leaned on work surface, "How could you be so stupid, eh?"

"Look, I'm blonde. What's your excuse?" Sanji grabbed the bottle from Iru, dipping his finger into the pan to test the temperature of the milk. It was warm – warm enough so as not to burn Tare's mouth, but hopefully enough to satisfy him. There was a rubber teat on the bottle cap, and Sanji unscrewed it, dipping the bottle into the pan to mostly fill it with milk. "Where'd you get it, anyway?"

"Borrowed it from one of the customers!" Iru said cheerfully, "If you're nice to her, she may let you keep it. I think it would come in handy …"

Sanji had no shock over what Iru had done (normally, borrowing things from customers was forbidden), in fact, he was extremely grateful. Not that he was going to tell Iru that …

Screwing the cap back on the bottle, he made sure that Tare was secure and placed the rubber teat into the infant's mouth. As Tare made a soft moaning noise and began to suck the warm milk from the bottle, he looked up innocently at his father as if he had done nothing in order to get it.


	5. Sleeping Like A Baby

Aaah! Oh my goodness! It's been over two months since I last updated! I am so sorry, everybody!

I got back to school in very early September, and since I'm in my final year of secondary school, I've got lots and lots of coursework to do. It leaves little time for writing, but I also got hideous writer's block that interrupted other projects that I'm working on with friends (which they've been very patient with, I might add). Anyway, I'm pretty much over that now, and I'm getting my coursework under control. Plus, right now there's a whole two weeks off school stretching out in front of me, so hopefully I'll be able to update then too!

That aside, thank you all so so much for all the reviews! I've never had a fic so successful – and I can't believe just how many reviews I got for the fourth chapter! My gosh – I really am thankful to you all. Thank you so much. To:

ooXXHPFANFOREVERXXoo: Thanks very much for being a loyal reviewer! At the moment in the story, Sanji is sixteen, yes. Later in the story Tare will be three. But that's yet to be written!

Vampirebaby13: Thank you for reviewing! Poor Sanji, yep – and I guess only when he learns his responsibilities as a daddy will it get better!

MeraNova: I didn't mean any offence to blondes …but I thought the jokes were kinda funny. Not all blondes are dumb – but I thought it was kinda funny having blonde jokes aimed at Sanji, mainly because he's a guy (and blonde jokes are usually directed at girls), and because …well …he's Sanji.

The Hutchy.1: Heh – yeah, babies are funny. And annoying, as you'll see in this chapter.

Fallen Wings Sakura: Ah! You have a nice pen-name! Yeah – poor Sanji …it was an idea that popped into my head – 'How would Sanji deal with a baby?' and it sprung to life pretty well! I'm trying very hard to keep it up, and I'm sorry for not updating sooner. I'll try to do better! I hope you like this chapter!

Raikku of The Darkness: Sorry for not updating! But you know? I really, really like your idea of Zeff setting Sanji afloat with that lovely screaming son of his – please may I use that idea? I think it's brilliant!

Infinite Enemy: Thanks for reviewing! I know that right now it seems like fun little escapades and such, but I'm trying to get some history down, I think. Also, I want to build up a relationship between Sanji and his son. And as for that mystery girl – don't forget about her just yet …

YokoChan: Thanks – I'm really glad you like my fic! As for the age info, I just surf around on the net – look up Sanji and such on search engines and look at different websites. I guess a good fan site will have their ages on. Hope that helps!

animefan127: Thanks very much! Skipping ahead? Well, not as big a gap as five years – but some months …I have it written down in my ideas book somewhere …

kittyyuciefan: Sorry I didn't answer your question before – but I'm very glad that you like my fic! Knowing the baby info – I researched it on the net beforehand, so I had more idea of what I was talking about. It was a really good site, with a timeline, illnesses, how to hold, feed, etc …the only problem is …I can't remember what site I used!

silverfangedgoddess: Gee, I feel awful! You got obsessed with story …and I was so bad as to not update …are you okay? It has been two whole months …oh, dear …well, I hope you're okay – 'cause here's chapter five!

(By the way, people, I don't own One Piece. I own Tare, though. And some random cooks in here, too …hee, hee.)

(Oh, and one more thing. I think I really need names for these chapters ...so, if you peeps have any ideas for chapter names, then please tell me. Yeppers, you guys can name the chapters! It's the least I can do to say thank you.)

* * *

Sanji gave way to another large yawn as he widened the 'v' shaped gap in the plate rack. He had borrowed it (without permission) from the washing-up area, and planned to use it for a cradle for Tare, as Iru had suggested when their shift was over. However, it was very late, and Tare was already asleep, lying on Sanji's bed with his little hands balled into fists, and his legs kicking out at nothing every so often.

The child's father, struggling to stay awake, proceeded to put one large plate in either end of the dish rack, to stop the baby from slipping out at either end, and then pulled the bag that Tare had come in towards him, yanking out a particularly thick blanket and lining the dish rack with it, then roughly rolling up a smaller blanket and jamming that near one end of the dish rack as a pillow.

He almost stumbled as he got to his feet, picking up the baby and laying him in the dish rack, then placing another blanket over him – it could get very cold at night. Tare's eyes remained shut, even though he mumbled a bit as the extra blanket was placed on him. Sanji then swayed over to his bunk and sat on it, loosening his tie and pulling off his jacket.

_Oh, sod getting ready for bed, _he thought tiredly, kicking off his shoes and whipping the loop of his tie over his head, shoving it into a drawer under his bed. Yawning widely again, Sanji curled up in his bunk, pulling the covers over himself, his arm curled underneath his head as an extra pillow as he slipped out of consciousness.

* * *

"Sanji! Sanji, wake up! Wake up now!" 

An urgent hiss, accompanied with a hard shake, roughly and rudely awakened Sanji from sleep, and the blonde rolled over to look at the offending person who had been so cruel as to wake him. "What?"

"Your kid – crying …" It was Vance, Sanji realised, as his vision adjusted to the darkness, his expression worried. Tare's crying reached his ears, and Sanji shook his head, rolling back over.

"Sod that."

"Sanji – you have to! It's your kid!" Vance whispered urgently, "Zeff won't be best pleased if that bairn wakes him!"

"D'you think I'm pleased?" Sanji growled, not looking at Vance, who anxiously ran a hand through his light brown hair, chewing his lip. He had to do something – he didn't know how to look after a baby …and besides, it was Sanji's baby, so he should look after it.

"You know better than anybody what Zeff's like when he's woken up in the middle of the night …" Vance said softly, as Sanji sighed sharply in extreme annoyance. Sitting up, he forcefully kicked the covers off of himself, and swung his legs out of the bunk, straightening up and resisting the urge to smack Vance upside the head. He crossed the room who where his son was crying, his face red and screwed up, little fists beating the air.

As far as Sanji knew, Tare only cried when he was either hungry, or needed changing. Standing over the makeshift crib, Sanji folded his arms, "So what do you want?"

_What, you expect him to answer you?_ A voice inside his mind laughed at him wickedly, and Sanji scowled, reaching down and picking up the infant, who quietened slightly, but still bawled. He sniffed at the baby – no poo smell. _That must mean that he wants feeding …_

He looked around for Vance, knowing that he might need a bit of help, but to his annoyance he saw that the waiter was back in bed, and snoring softly. Scowling, feeling like he had been somewhat betrayed, Sanji left his room, bobbing Tare against his shoulder again while he grabbed a half-full carton of milk from the diary pantry. The child was calming, but still threatening to cry again, moaning rather loudly.

Sanji found Tare's bottle, washed-up and dry, in the lackey's area, and grabbed it and a saucepan, using the pan to carry the bottle and the milk as he went into the kitchen. His eyelids felt heavy, and he just wanted to drop everything and go back to sleep – however he knew he couldn't – that would mean a mess in the kitchen, loud noise and possibly a dead baby. And he didn't really want a dead baby on his hands.

Like a machine he went through the motions of putting the milk in the pan and turning on the heat to warm it. And all the time, Tare cried – so much it gave Sanji a throbbing headache. Surprisingly, nobody else awoke, or if they did, they didn't make it known.

_Lucky them …_ Sanji thought bitterly, as he snapped the rubber teat onto the bottle and shoved it into Tare's mouth – with a little more force than was needed. The baby immediately began to suck at the milk, and Sanji, having switched off the oven, couldn't find a reason as to why he should bother to put away the pan and empty carton. The pan was mostly empty, so it wouldn't matter …

He trudged back to his room with Tare still greedily sucking at the milk, and saw that neither Vance nor Jagaimo were awake. For some reason, he sorely hated them.

Sitting on his bed, he ignored the springs of the thin mattress creaking beneath him, and simply watched his son as he continued to feed, supporting the bottle so the infant could get as much milk as he desired. And when he had finished, Sanji remembered that Iru had told him to burp him. He lifted Tare to his shoulder and patted his back.

Sure enough, after a short while, the child burped – rather loudly for somebody of his small size – and Sanji decided that it was enough. Any other trapped wind would find another way out. He carried Tare back to his 'cradle' and laid him in it, covering him up again. Tare gave a few surprised babbles, then was quiet as Sanji stumbled back to bed.

_So …tired …_ the teen gave a groan to accompany his thoughts, falling into the bunk and rubbing his forehead as he closed his eyes. Sliding his hand down to his neck, and then to his shoulder, his eyes flickered open again. His shoulder was wet – something sticky was on his shirt …

He glared over at Tare as he realised that the child had been sick while being burped, and unbuttoned his shirt a little before pulling it over his head and throwing it on the floor beside his bunk. Pulling the covers up and over him again, he felt his eyelids automatically slide shut, and there was darkness in his mind once more.

* * *

An incessant poking was what woke him next, and when he fully regained consciousness, though still half-asleep, Sanji realised that Tare was bawling again. The poking was accompanied by Jagaimo's urgent whispering, "Sanji! Wakey wakeeeeyy …" 

"What?" Sanji asked, even though he was well aware of what was required of him. Jagaimo pointed over at Tare's makeshift crib, while still poking Sanji with his other hand. It was really beginning to annoy the blonde.

"Your kid's cryyyyying …" Jagaimo said softly. He finger was still poking sanji's arm.

"Stop that." Sanji swatted Jagaimo's hand away, and glanced up at his fellow chef. Jagaimo had spiky black hair and a darkly tanned face …and teddy pyjamas. Sanji arched an eyebrow, wondering why anybody on Baratie would have teddy pyjamas – and be able to keep it a secret for so long.

"You gonna do something about him?" Jagaimo asked, seemingly rather worried, "If Chef Zeff gets woken up by your kid's crying --"

"He'd have my ass for breakfast." Sanji muttered, groaning as he fell out of bed and hit the floor, hard. He got to his knees and crawled over to the crib, peering inside. Tare was still crying.

And suddenly, something highly offensive filled his nostrils – something which made him jerk back so sharply that he landed on his rear and cover his nose and mouth with both hands.

The smell had returned. In full force.


	6. Protection: Parenting Instinct Kicked In

Hello everybody! Whew, it's been AAAAAGES since my last update! I'm sorry for taking so long, everyone. Mind you, all of my mock exams are out the way now and it's the Christmas Holidays! Whoo hoo!

xXSanji-kunXx – Thanks much for your review And thanks for the info too – I oughta edit some chapters and make Sanji-san smoke some more. Tee hee …

Raikku of The Darkness – Ne, sorry this took forever. The Infamous Smell hath returned – and it won't be the last you see of it! Mwahaha!

Hutchy – Well, to tell you the truth – I thought generally all you needed to do was change and feed babies. Boy, was I wrong! I've been doing lots more research recently, so I've got a whole list of fun things that Sanji's going to discover he has to do in order to keep his bouncing bundle of joy happy and healthy!

Denygo – Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you like the story. It was a random idea that attacked me in full force while I was staying with my grandparents – they have Sky TV, and so I was able to watch One Piece every day. The idea hit me out of the blue – I thought it would be fun to explore!

polw – Your review was gladly received thank you so much for reviewing! So I guess you have a lot of experience in the baby field – it's good to know that I'm doing okay so far. I wanted to capture how difficult it would be for Sanji – and you have boosted my confidence! Thank you very much! A date or something? Hmm – I'll think on that. Could be lots of fun …

kagomegirle - Glad you love it! Hope you like this next chapter!

Silverfangedgoddess09 – Thanks for reviewing! And thank you also for your chapter name idea. I'll get round to that soon. When I said name the chapters, I meant people can name the ones already written and the ones from now on. Yep!

Kittyyuciefan – I hope you think this chapter's good, too. And I hope your cold's better, too!

Yokochan – my story is your favourite? Waaai! That makes me so happy! About the Japanese stuff – is that coincidental, do you think? 'Cause I swear I didn't know that when I started writing this …weird, ne?

Fallen Wings Sakura – Sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. Tare shall continue to make life as wonderfully difficult for his daddy as possible, that's a promise. Hee hee! Hopefully I won't be so busy – but I have a lot of coursework to get finished by March – but after that, hopefully more chapters will be coming! I have them planned, don't worry!

Sugar Mouse – Thank you very muchly! I just hope it stays well written …

Golden-Fire-Goddess – I'm happy you like it! I'll try to keep in the cuteness and humour – those are a couple of things I've been aiming for in this fic. So far, it looks like I haven't been doing too badly. You know, I really like films like Three Men And A Baby, and Jack and Sarah – things like that. Those are cute and funny too!

Anyways, that's to my wonderful reviewers. Thank you so much for your support since August. So here you are, everybody – a Christmas update!

I hope everybody has a very merry and magical Christmas!

* * *

"Does I hafta wake you up twice in a row, crap-server?" Patty whipped the sheets off of Sanji's sleeping form and jabbed him sharply in the ribs with the spatula he was holding. With a yell Sanji jumped awake, bashing his head on the top of the bunk.

"Bloody Hell, crap-cooker!" the blonde shouted, "What'd you that for!"

Patty grinned cruelly, "You overslept again." He paused, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder in Tare's direction, "And yer kid wants you, crap-father."

Sanji's ears had already tuned to Tare's wailing. The damn baby had had him up twice in the night – so why wasn't Tare as tired as he was? Another hard jab in the ribs made him yell again.

"ALRIGHT! Look at me, crap-cooker! I'm going to see the damn kid!" Sanji said, gesticulating in an over-exaggerated way as he took abnormally large steps towards Tare's makeshift crib. As he passed Patty, he mumbled darkly, "Piece of crap …"

Patty flared, "What'd you say!"

Sanji crossed the room to Tare, "I said cheesy bap."

"What for, crap-father?" Patty arched an eyebrow, scratching the back of his head with the spatula. Picking up Tare and holding him close to his chest, Sanji turned with a look that told Patty that the blonde clearly thought that he was stupid.

"For breakfast." Sanji said, suddenly realising that that was probably the last thing he wanted to eat this morning. Just the thought of all the cheese with the fat running off it, and glistening in the light on top of bread that wasn't quite toasted made him feel rather sick.

"What, and you want me to make it, crap-father?" Patty put his hands on his hips. Sanji gave him another look which made Patty again feel that the blonde clearly thought that he was intellectually disadvantaged.

"No," Sanji looked down at his son, whose wailing had quietened to little babbles. He suddenly felt annoyed, "And will you stop calling me 'crap-father'?"

Patty beamed vindictively, "Nope. I reckon it suits you." He made his way to the door, swinging it open with a flourish, "I'll make sure everybody knows!"

"Patty, you dare and --" Sanji was cut short by Patty leaving the room and slamming the door shut. He stood in shock for a few short moments, until Tare, disturbed and frightened by the noise, began to cry again.

* * *

_So, now this kid's twelve days old? He's not doing too badly, I suppose._ Sanji thought, as he looked down at the child in his arms. However, he refused to let himself feel anything for the boy. _He's making my life Hell. I don't care if he _is _my son – I can't possibly love him if he's doing this to me._

He straightened his tie with his free hand, keeping one eye on Tare. Yesterday had taught him to be more wary. In fact, he knew not to leave the baby unattended on the worksurface. He would fall.

"Well, there's one way to solve that problem." Sanji said, reaching into a cupboard above his head. He looked around in it for a few moments before he found what he was looking for, and Tare soon found himself lying on the worksurface, within the confinements of a wok. The baby rolled slightly, and the wok wobbled, but it didn't fall.

Sanji put his hands on his hips, pleased with his work. He hardly gave the waitress who handed him his first order a second look, but glanced down at the paper. Now he could work without worrying too much about Tare. Some other cooks were eyeing him with curiosity and disbelief, but at a glare from Sanji they went back to politely minding their own business.

The order was eggs. Three of them – fried. It took Sanji less than a minute to get what he needed and start cooking. He found himself laughing – because things were much easier this morning.

"Hah – you eggs. You're not getting the better of me this morning." He said triumphantly, as the clear stuff around the yolks began to turn white. Looking over at Tare, who was trying to watch him with his abnormally large blue eyes, Sanji decided that perhaps a good way to prepare for a sudden outburst of crying was to have milk ready.

And so that was prepared, too. But oh so carefully.

Still the huge blue eyes of his son watched him. Sanji smirked slightly in amusement. Those eyes reminded him of a bushbaby. Or a martian.

"Things are a lot easier when you've got two hands free." Sanji said, not quite sure if he was talking to himself, or the baby. _Doesn't it make you insane to be talking to yourself? Or more insane to be talking to a baby?_ "Because I can do these eggs really easily – look. My hands aren't getting burned this morning. I could've been spared all that crap yesterday if I'd just thought of putting you in a wok before." _Oh, fantastic. I'm talking to a baby. Wait – I put the baby in a wok. Conclusion: I'm insane._

He suddenly submitted to an enormous yawn, one that seemed to go on forever, "So bloody tired …"

"Hah – Sanji-lad! Ye've coulda swallowed a forty-gunner with a mouth that wide!" Iru bustled over to him, clapping him on the shoulder. "So ye feelin' good, boy?"

"I feel crap."

"Excellent!" Iru grinned, "That's just what a parent should feel like!"

Sanji didn't bother to ask him how he knew. His eyelids were beginning to feel like lead, and it was a struggle to keep them open. He briefly recalled the horror of nappy-changing from the night before,

_("Oh NO!")_

and made a firm decision:

_I don't want to be a parent._

The eggs were ready. The waitress who had given him the order came over eagerly, however as Sanji lifted them from the pan onto a plate, he straightened his tie again. "Don't worry. I'll take these down. You just make sure that milk doesn't get too hot." He flashed the waitress a devilish smile that made her blush and bow meekly.

"Y-yes, Sanji." She said, stepping aside to let him pass. Sanji smirked as he left the kitchen.

_Heh. I still got it._

He checked the order again – it was for table twenty-three. That was downstairs. He passed by other tables and descended the stairs, and despite being stupidly tired, he felt a tiny bit of good inside. He was straightening things out a little – he knew how change a nappy – or a necktie, as the case was. He also knew how to feed the baby, and had solved the problem of Tare falling off of the worksurface.

"Here, sir. Apologies for the wait." He said, placing the plate in front of the customer, who thanked him and began to eat. Turning away and looking around at the other customers, Sanji felt his own stomach growl. He hadn't eaten yet.

He didn't recall eating much yesterday, either.

_I guess,_ he thought, heading back up the stairs, _I ought to make myself some with the next order._

Upon entering the kitchen, he suddenly felt something in the pit of his stomach – and it wasn't the growl of his stomach muscles having nothing to digest. He felt that something was wrong.

_Don't be a worrying pansy._ He told himself, _you left that waitress in charge – and it was only for a few minutes._

However, another memory of yesterday began to haunt him – where he had left Tare in the care of a waiter. Everything had quickly been thrown into chaos, and –

"Hey." Sanji approached the oven that he worked at, making the waitress jump back in shock. Sanji's eyes flickered to the place where he had left Tare, and to his horror the baby wasn't there. There wasn't even a wok. "Where's my kid?"

The waitress said nothing – just dumbly looked up at him. Sanji scowled, "Where's my kid!"

"I-I-I don't know!" The waitress squeaked, rushing away from him as she burst into tears. Sanji growled, frustrated. Couldn't he leave the boy alone with somebody else for just a few minutes? Was that too much to ask?

"Hey, crap-cooker!" he shouted over at Patty, "Where the Hell's my kid!"

"How should I know, crap-father?" Patty hollered back, "It's your damn brat!"

"Oh shit. Oh, shit. Oh …shit!" Sanji suddenly spied his child, and rushed towards the cook that had taken him. It was somebody whose name he couldn't remember, but he did know that the cook had an ear missing – and a sadistic streak. Sanji yelled as he reached the cook's side, "What the Hell are you doing to my son!"

"Heh. It's yours? I didn't know." The cook gave him a callous grin, revealing two gold teeth. Sanji wanted to punch them out. And suddenly he remembered the cook's name – Gara.

The chaos that was brewing had, as usual, attracted some attention from other cooks, waiters and lackeys, and even more took notice as Tare began to scream. Sanji whipped the tiny boy out of the wok, holding him closely as he scowled back at Gara. "You sick bastard."

The wok had been placed on Gara's oven, and the heat had been inching up, burning little Tare. Gara had even poured cooking oil on the boy. The mere thought of what the man had in mind made Sanji sick. But even more, it made him angry.

"Heh. What can I say? Need some excitement on a mornin'." Gara said, folding his arms. Although he stood a good few inches taller than Sanji, the blonde wasn't in the least intimidated. His anger put that aside.

"Bastard. That's my kid!"

"You were the one who put him in a wok." Gara replied smugly. Sanji scowled furiously.

_Kick him. Kick the bastard._

"I put him a wok to stop him falling off the worksurface!"

A moment after he had said it, Sanji realised how stupid it sounded. People around him began to snigger and giggle, and Patty in particular let off a loud guffaw of glee. Gara smirked down at him, hard, tattooed arms visible because of his rolled up sleeves. Those arms would probably crush Sanji's spine with ease.

Why was he sizing Gara up as an opponent? That was stupid – if he started a fight in the kitchen, Zeff would kill him. He would be out of Baratie faster than he could cry: 'He started it!'

Against his shoulder, Tare was crying gently. He coughed, cried some more, and coughed again. Sanji lifted a hand to cup the child's head, still glaring up at Gara. The helplessness of his child made him feel angry and, in a strange way, troubled.

"Beat it." Gara said, grinning widely. "Y'know what'll happen if you start a fight in 'ere. Zeff will _not be happy_ …"

Sanji scowled back, suddenly furious. This man would have murdered his child! That was beyond sickening. He shook his head slightly to clear his blonde hair from his eyes, so he could see properly. Gara leaned down slightly.

"Beat it, crap-father."

_That name again …_ it annoyed Sanji to no end. The pathetic state of his child did not help towards his angry mood. He was still crying, and his back was warm under Sanji's palm. _You can't just walk away from a thing like this …_

Zeff would kill him. He had already made allowances for Sanji – what with having Tare on board and allowing him some leeway as far as his work was concerned, but after a few days, when he should have pulled himself back together …

_Starting a fight is not an option._

"Why ain't you movin'?" Gara asked, arching a thick eyebrow. He seemed to be thinking, and then suddenly took a step towards Sanji, reaching down for the precious being in his arms. "You want me to have the brat? …Fine, I'll just take it."

He flashed his golden teeth again as he spread his rough fingers. His hand was bigger than the baby. As he felt Gara's other hand grasp his arm, trying to get him to let go of the boy, Sanji reacted.

With a thud, his foot connected with Gara's temple, driving a yell of shock and anger from the cook. Sanji stepped back, still holding his son, who was now screaming in fright. He stepped back, waiting for Gara to make a move. The cooks, waiters and lackeys around them were all watching intently.

Suddenly, Gara lumbered forward, one enormous hand clubbed into a fist, ready to drive it into Sanji's midsection. Nimbly the blonde sidestepped and as Gara staggered forward, recovering from the miss, Sanji swung his leg round and smashed it into the man's nose. Blood splashed on the wooden floor of the kitchen, and instantly a roar flew up from the people watching.

"Hit 'im again, Sanji! Show da bastard some real pain!" Patty yelled, waving a rolling pin dangerously above his head. It smacked a tall, lanky chef around the head with a dull thud and he fell to the floor, unconscious. Nobody really noticed – they were all too caught up in the fight that was going on.

With the wailing baby in his arms, Sanji turned away, trying to hush and clam his son. Tare bawled loudly, his face scrunched up and red, little fists beating against Sanji's shoulders. Much as Sanji bobbed him and tried to shush him, the baby refused to quieten. Suddenly, one of the lackeys screamed, and Sanji whirled around to see that Gara had recovered, and was coming at him with full force.

Reacting quickly, Sanji ducked under the ferocious double punch Gara had been aiming at him, and, careful to hold Tare securely, deftly flung his leg up, walloping Gara in the side of his neck. The man groaned, but wound his arm back to retaliate, giving Sanji no time to be amazed by his own dexterity. Barely noting the river of blood that was running freely down Gara's face, he hopped forward on one foot and swiftly, repeatedly jabbed his foot into Gara's stomach, unloading a volley of hits like a machine gun.

With a roar of pain, Gara overbalanced, crashing down flat on his back with such force that the pans hanging from the racks shuddered and rattled against each other. With Tare's howling still giving murder to his eardrums, Sanji decided to finish the fight.

Swinging his leg up, he paused a moment, glaring at Gara before slamming his heel down into the man's solar plexus, driving something between a cough and a scream from him. Stepping back, Sanji found that he was panting from his efforts, but immediately returned his attention to his son, whose wailing was rising to well over one hundred decibels, or so it seemed.

Turning away again, Sanji held the tiny boy close to him, shushing him in the gentlest way he knew how, trying to shield him from the shouts of congratulations from his fellow cooks. Although he was probably going to get an ass-walloping from Zeff, the only thing that mattered to him right now was calming and reassuring his frightened child.

As Gara rolled over and coughed heavily, spitting a mix of phlegm and blood onto the floor, Sanji realised that Tare had indeed quietened, and despite his moaning and tear-stained face, he was contentedly sucking on one of his fists.

_I don't know why, _Sanji thought, as a couple of people congratulated him with shouts of admiration and slaps on the shoulder, _but I feel a little like a hero …_


	7. Chapter 7

Hello to everyone!

First of all, I am really, really sorry …simply because this is the first update in, what, six months? Maybe more?

Well, I have an excuse. I'm in my final year of secondary school (or high school to all you American readers …I think) and I have nightmare things called GCSEs to study for (or finals). But I'm currently on holiday and I suddenly got a zing to write the next chapter. Personally, I think it's a little iffy and could do with some tweaking, but I'll leave that for you terrific readers to decide.

To my reviewers:

xXSanji-kunXx – I hope you had a good Christmas …although it's June now. Ehehe. At long last, I have updated – and once my exams are over I hope to update more often. This story has more of a plot, I promise!

Golden-Fire-Goddess – You'll get to see the outcome of the fight in this chapter. Did you get a chance to see Jack and Sarah? I watched it recently – it was so lovely. And the ending's really awesome, too!

animefan127 – Thanks for liking the story. I'm getting fired up for it again (lack of One Piece anime goodness, although the dub isn't as good as it could be)! As for finding the name, I looked it up on a Japanese to English dictionary. I thought of a word I wanted the baby's name to mean, and put it into the dictionary. Search for 'japanese english dictionary' on Google – and look for Jeffery's one.

WildTotodile – You betcha! Just keep on reading to find out what disasters Sanji winds himself into during the course of the next six chapters!

polw – Thanks again for your review. Those are some good ideas – mind if I steal them? Sanji's not so inventive in this chapter, I'm afraid, but I promise there'll be some more craziness as he continues trying to desperately raise his bundle of joy. Your twins certainly sound like a handful!

kittyyuciefan – Thanks – I'm quite proud of that fight scene. It's fun to write Sanji fighting, since he only uses his feet for fighting, but if you use your imagination, he's got a helluva lotta power.

hieisprincess – Thanks for luvving my story! I hope you'll continue to enjoy it!

babe300 – I'm sorry for not updating, but I am really really glad you like the fic. I have been meaning to update for a long time now, but I've had a lack of One Piece goodness (need to get some manga! ) and been busy with exams. But hopefully I'll update more often in a few weeks – when I'm on holiday! Your idea's swell – thanks, and I'll take that into consideration. You may be pleasantly surprised by my plotline …anyways, thank you for being very supportive and I hope you like this new chapter!

silverfangedgoddess09 – Thanks for the chapter name, and you could be the official chapter naming person, but I'd like everyone to have a shot at suggestions for chapter names. That doesn't mean you should stop giving out names, though! It's a not-soon update, but I hope you can forgive me …!

H-girl.1 – Nice pun. I love it, I really do. Thanks for your continuing support!

. – Ah, nice signature. Is it really that awesome? Hey, I must have felt the awesomeness 'cause I updated! But …for taking so long, do I still get beaten up and pudding forced down me?

Invader Q – Thanks for loving the fic. I'll be bringing other characters in, I'm just not telling you when. Heeheehee.

FreddyPhone – I love you pen-name. That rocks! I am so updating this sotry, don't you worry! Sanji's my favourite character, too. He's so cool. No, he really is!

Thanks again to my readers and reviewers. You're all terrific people, and your support makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! Once more, a request for chapter names, please! They all need naming – including this one. Thanks very much guys (and gals) and I hope you enjoy this new chapter of Crap-Father!

* * *

Head Chef Zeff was angry. No, more than angry. He was livid, seething with a hot rage that was ready to explode upon a certain sixteen-year old chef. Furiously his peg-leg thudded against the floor with every second step, his usual limp not impeding him for a moment as he crashed through all manner of cooks, waiters and lackeys in order to reach the main kitchen.

He deftly whipped a long rolling pin from a rack against the wall, using it to bat aside people standing in a tightly knit circle surrounding what he assumed was the fight scene. The news had reached him quickly in the form of a frightened lackey, her eyes huge with trepidation and hands and apron wet with spilt water from her station.

"Out of my way!" he growled, batting one chef a little harder than he meant to. Patty was sent crashing to the floor with an indignant yell, and he wound his arm across his chest, ready to beat his attacker with his own rolling pin, however upon noticing the peg leg he thought the better of it and scrambled to his feet, backing away from the circle. Then, on a counteracting whim, he headed back towards the group, realising that Sanji was about to receive the thrashing of his short life.

Overwhelmed by his own feats and still calming the child in his arms, Sanji was unaware of Zeff's approach, but a chill ran down his spine when the Head Chef, in the most unkind tone conceivable, growled in his ear, "Think you're really something, hey?"

Sanji knew there was no way he could hide Gara, who was stumbling back to his feet, blood flowing steadily down his face, from his superior, and tried not to tremble on the spot. In his arms, Tare had calmed and was happily oozing saliva from his mouth onto Sanji's shirt.

"_Think you're really something, hey?"_

Those words had been uttered with such malice, such venom. Zeff was ready to fly off the handle any moment, at any movement or slight noise from the blonde. So, in order not to provoke him, Sanji decided that the best course of action would simply be to keep very, very still.

_Perhaps I ought not to breathe._

"Sanji!" Zeff barked suddenly, causing the blonde to shudder inwardly.

_Or even think._

"Chef Zeff!" Gara mumbled, stumbling on his feet as he tried to focus on the one-legged man. Zeff irritably pulled at one side of his plaited moustache, growling in his throat. However, Gara missed this ominous caveat, and continued, slurring with dizziness, "Tha' Sanji, sir, he tried'm hit me an' beaten me, yeb'm …!"

"Really?" Chef Zeff sidestepped around Sanji, forcing his ruddy features into a look of mock sympathy as he moved towards Gara, who nodded dumbly. "You've got blood runnin' down your face and, to be extremely frank, you look like shit." Zeff paused before adding, "Blood-stained shit, I grant you. So shut up and let me deal with the boy."

"Yeb'm, Chef Zeff." Gara said, saluting Zeff, even as the cooks and waiters behind him drew back in fear, noticing Zeff's face suddenly get a whole lot redder as Gara continued, "But lisstemb, boss, he'm jus' hit me, sir, and then he b --"

"Gara, shut up!" Zeff yelled suddenly, smashing his peg-leg into Gara's calves with one quick sweep, sending the brutish cook crashing to the ground again. As Gara moaned on the floor, Zeff then rounded on Sanji, face beet-red and scowling.

There was a weight like a cannonball in Sanji's stomach, and he met Zeff's eyes, unaware that his own irises were quivering with fright. Involuntarily, his whole body trembled, and it dawned upon him exactly just what his punishment was going to be.

For starting a fight in the kitchen, it would be a solid yelling at. For drawing blood during a fight, a hard beating – probably with the rolling pin that Zeff gripped tightly in his right hand. And for doing both of those things, on the high scale which had led to Gara in need of new teeth and a good mopping up, he could expect to be thrown off Baratie for good.

And all because of some stupid baby. The tiny being that he held against his shoulder was the cause of this – the boy who a woman he hardly knew, whose name he couldn't even remember, claimed was his son. He would have rejected the child instantly but …

But Zeff had made him keep the child, made him give Tare identity and learn how to raise him …in an effort to protect his own flesh and blood, he had lost a dream that he had been chasing ever since Baratie had come to exist.

The dream to have the job of the man who stood before him.

Sanji swallowed; _this is it._

"You senseless son of a bitch." Zeff snarled, "Look – my kitchen's completely stopped because of you. Customers out there are getting hungry and it's because of you. One of my chefs is out of action, 'cause you bashed him up. What am I going to do with you, Sanji?" Zeff paused before bellowing at a volume which made Tare's loudest crying seem no more than a mouse's squeak, "What the Hell am I going to do with you!"

A lump formed in Sanji's throat. The dream was slipping from his grasp. It was all running away too quickly. As Tare began to cry in his arms, frightened by Zeff's shouting, Sanji too felt a hot trail begin to work its way down his cheek. He kept his expression set, but could no longer stand to look at Zeff, the man who had taught him so much, and worked so hard with to create the ship they stood within. Instead, he looked over the man's shoulder, staring hard at Gara, who was back on his feet.

"Why'd you kick him, Sanji?" Zeff asked, his voice lower than before. However he quickly lost his patience and roared, "Why'd you kick him, crap-father!"

Tare screamed, clinging to Sanji's shirt and quivering with fear, his legs kicking from either side of Sanji's hand supporting him. Zeff glared at him, winding back his right arm, "Why'd you --"

"Because he was gonna kill my kid!"

Sanji's shout drove everyone around them into complete, stunned silence for a moment. Tare still cried, however in response to Sanji's statement Zeff whirled around, rolling pin raised.

"Son of a --"

With a sickening crack the rolling pin smashed into the side of Gara's head, and down the bulky chef went again, collapsing to the floor in a dead faint. Fresh blood splashed across the kitchen floor, and Zeff glared at the cooks, waiters and lackeys stood around him.

"Take him to his room and clean this up," he growled, to which everyone responded quickly, some grabbing Gara's limbs and hauling him in the direction of the cabins, and others dashing for mops to clean up the crimson liquid smeared on the wooden floor in his wake. Zeff turned back to Sanji, who again was trying to calm the child in his arms. He saw tears glistening on the teen's face, and softened a little. "Sanji."

"…Yes?" The blonde looked up, holding his precious son close to his chest. Zeff jerked his head in the direction of the cabins.

"Come with me, boy." And suddenly he rounded on all of the other chefs, who seemingly had nothing else to do, "The rest of you – GET BACK TO WORK!"

* * *

Zeff had a personal bathroom adjacent to his sleeping quarters, in which, Sanji noticed, the sink was rather large. The reason for this was because he was currently using it, due to the fact that Tare still had cooking oil splashed onto him. However Zeff had offered the sink to Sanji on the condition that it was made spotless afterwards.

With his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and supporting Tare's head and back with one hand, Sanji again tested the water with his elbow, a new trick that Zeff had taught him. Zeff was in the adjacent room, peacefully smoking a cigar, having calmed down from the pandemonium earlier.

"You must have kicked him pretty damn hard," Zeff said thoughtfully, audible over the sound of splashing water. Tare had discovered the joys of splashing water with balled fists, and Sanji was also lifting water with a cupped hand and splattering Tare's body with it. The nakedness of the child still made Sanji feel a little uncomfortable, but thanks to the bubbles he had created using a tiny droplet of Zeff's …whatever he used while showering, there were enough bubbles to cover the essentials.

"Hn." Sanji found himself smiling as Tare giggled, beating his fists into the water and fixing his large blue eyes on his father. Some of the warm water flew up into Sanji's face, and he drew back with a short splutter as he wiped it away with the back of his hand, "Don't do that again, Tare …"

Tare's thin, downy hair was a darker blonde now it was wet, and Sanji carefully leaned Tare back, so no water would get into his eyes, as he cupped his hand and gently trickled water over the infant's head again.

"I won't get rid of you, Sanji. That's what you're worried about, ain't it?" Zeff's voice was so oddly calm that Sanji wasn't even sure if it was the same man that had roared at him with such anger before. Lifting Tare from the sink, Sanji suddenly held him close as Zeff spoke again, "You're one of my best, Sanji. I'm not going to give you up so easily. But …"

Sanji turned his head towards the door, feeling nervous again. Here came the punishment. Zeff coughed, then added: "If you're holding your brat, put him down now. I wouldn't want you to kill him …"

Sanji obeyed Zeff's suggestion, and lay Tare down on a towel spread on the wooden surface next to it, quickly covering the lower half of his child's body with the soft, dark blue material. He placed his hands at either side of the boy, hanging his head as he waited for Zeff's punishment.

"You're to take on Gara's shift as well as your own until he's well again. That, and looking after your brat."

Sanji cringed, but a moment later he realised that it could have been a whole lot worse. He had escaped a sound beating, and gotten off with a double shift …and all that really involved was cooking, something he didn't mind at all.

_Gara will only take a couple of weeks to recover, right?_

Mulling it over, Sanji noticed that Tare was reaching up for him, his mouth a small 'o' of curiosity. He arched an eyebrow, and leaned down a little further towards the child. "What do you want?"

Tare made a loud moaning noise, followed by some baby babbling that was impossible to comprehend. Sanji closed his eyes as he shook his head in disbelief, and suddenly Tare gave a little squeal of laughter. Sanji opened his eyes again to see the small boy flushed with happiness, his toothless mouth wide and smiling as he reached up for his father's face. Deciding to humour the infant, Sanji dropped to his elbows, leaning down further until Tare's podgy fingers touched his cheeks.

"Look at you – you're nothing special, are you?" Sanji muttered, knowing that at that moment, he didn't mean a word of it. Tare's mouth opened wider, spreading his fingers and reaching up further. Before Sanji realised what was happening, Tare had taken two fistfuls of his fringe and yanked on it, hard. Sanji stifled a cry of pain, grabbing the infant's wrists in one hand and easing his grip with the other. "Stupid kid …"

"Sanji!"

Sanji looked around, ignoring Tare's squeals of laughter, peering through the door to where he knew Zeff would be sat, in a large chair bolted to the floor. Zeff's voice boomed through again: "Get in here!"

Obediently Sanji scooped up Tare, wrapping him in the towel and resting his body against his forearm, using his other hand to ensure that he didn't fall. Zeff snorted with laughter as Sanji came through, rubbing his forehead with his knuckles. Sanji frowned slightly, "What?"

"You," Zeff sniggered brazenly, "you look like a proper mother now."

"I --!" Sanji quickly propped Tare up against his shoulder, ducking as his face flushed with embarrassment. Zeff laughed out loud, pounding the arm of the chair with a hard fist, looking over at the teen who seemed to be losing confidence in his masculinity with every passing second. Sanji spluttered, "I do not!"

"Yes, you do. You've got your brat, and your sleeves rolled right up, and your shirt's soaked! You look terrible, Sanji." Zeff scoffed boldly, his features reddening slightly with his mirth. He toyed with one stiff, plaited side of his moustache, softening slightly as Sanji tried to regain his composure, "You're doing better than I thought you would though – I'll give you that. That whelp's been a challenge; I know plenty of the cowards on here would've thrown it overboard rather than try to raise it." Zeff paused, catching his breath from his laughing fit. Sanji bowed his head, feeling a little ashamed despite Zeff's words.

_I wanted to throw him overboard. I wanted to destroy my son's life …_

"You kept him with you, Sanji. That's commendable. You're brave …very brave. Well done, lad." Zeff paused, letting his words sink in, and the room was quiet, save for Tare's babbling. And suddenly, something else joined the baby's own talk, a soft cooing, and for the first time Sanji noticed the plump grey pigeon sat comfortably on Zeff's desk.

"Chef Zeff?" Sanji caught the man's attention, and then pointedly looked at the pigeon. Zeff cleared his throat, raising a small slip of paper and holding it out towards Sanji, who carefully moved towards him and took it, "This carrier pigeon's got a message from the East Blue Chronicle, saying that they want to do an article about you – and your brat."

Sanji frowned, shaking his head as he screwed up the slip of paper in his hand, "No. An absolute no." He turned away, looking down at the infant in his arms as he continued, "I'm not blabbing this thing to the whole East Blue …"

Zeff said slyly, "They're offering you five hundred berries …"

Sanji whirled back to face his superior, "Yes! Hell, yes! I'll …" he paused, and opened his hand, which had the crumpled paper in it, "I'll get back to them right now, and tell them, 'yes'!"


End file.
